


This is going to be good

by TeaHouseMoon



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: AU, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sex, help the Crema hospital, hotel au, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: Call Me By Your Name AU.Elio and Oliver travel to an island off the coast of Italy, separately, to find that they have been double-booked into the same luxury hotel room...I wonder what will happen? 😈
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 20
Kudos: 222





	This is going to be good

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as a gift to @EmmaPurple1 who donated to the fundraiser to help the Crema hospital to look after all the victims of the terrible Coronavirus emergency in Italy. 
> 
> Crema and Lombardy are the worst affected area in Italy with this disease.  
> Any help means a lot to me - and to them!
> 
> If you do want to donate, please click on the link below, and then send me a request once you’ve donated - I will write a fic for you! 
> 
> https://www.gofundme.com/f/aiutiamo-l039ospedale-di-crema-terapia-intensiva 
> 
> Thank you so much Emma!!!! And I hope you enjoy this story. Xx

The concierge had a guilty look on her face as she checked the booking on her computer.

“So there’s no other room?” Elio asked again, his eyes wide.

The concierge shook her head. She was young; she looked as if she could start crying in a moment.

“I-I’m sorry, we don’t have other rooms, there’s been a double booking, I - I don’t know how this happened.”

“But - but I booked months ago!” Elio tried again, almost on the verge of tears himself. He was in a strange city, on a strange, tiny island that was supposed to be the perfect destination for a relaxing getaway but which now didn’t seem relaxing to him at all. He didn’t know anyone; there was no other hotel on that island apart from this one.

“I know, I’m sorry, sir. If you want to wait maybe we can see if there’s cancellations...”

Elio looked around himself, setting his jaw. There were people lounging around on the couches at reception; probably waiting to be picked up for today’s excursion in nature. There were people in line behind them, waiting to check in. 

There weren’t going to be any cancellations, he was sure.

“Hey, look,” the man next to him said. “Look, I don’t mind if I’m double booked. It’s a big room. I can - sleep on the couch. You can close the bedroom door. I promise I’m not a weirdo.”

He’d been told of the double booking at the same time as Elio - for a strange twist of fate, they’d arrived from the airport on the same coach. He didn’t seem as concerned as Elio; and he was ready to give up the bed for him. He didn’t seem like a weirdo - just like he said; Elio had to admit - he was really good looking.

But that was not the point. He was still a stranger.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” the concierge girl said again.

Elio took a deep breath. There was no alternative, not right now. 

He swallowed, gave a look toward the man next to him.

“Ok. Ok, fine.”

“We... we don’t have to go up to the room together.”

Elio looked away as soon as he’d uttered the words. He and the handsome stranger were in the elevator, together, the bellboy having gone ahead with their suitcases. 

As if they were a couple, Elio thought, a mixture of embarrassment and shame colouring his cheeks. 

But his words right now didn’t make sense, and the handsome stranger didn’t miss a beat in making it known.

“What’s the point of going separately,” he said, and Elio could feel him smiling. “We both have to drop off our stuff, freshen up.Right?”

He didn’t sound annoyed, and he was still smiling when Elio looked up for a moment. The door pinged open; the handsome stranger motioned with his arm. 

“After you.”

Walking out of the lift, Elio had to focus to figure out how to find his room. Their room, now; he set his jaw, feigned confidence as he walked, not turning back to see if the stranger was following. 

Please work, please work, he mentally pleaded with the key card. He didn’t need to have any more embarrassing moments for today.

He gave a silent sigh of relief when the door clicked open.

“So, what’s your name? Just figured we should know, since we’re going to be sharing a room...”

Elio blinked, frowned. “My name is Elio. And we’re not sharing a room, it’s just because of the circumstances.”

“Oliver,” the man said. Raised his hands. “Right, I stand corrected. We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.”

Elio walked to the chest of drawers. He needed to put some distance between them. His heart seemed to want to beat faster every time the stranger - Oliver - spoke. What was happening to him?

“I mean, I didn’t mean we can’t talk,” he said, taking off his jacket, for something to do. He gave Oliver a look from the corner of his eye; he didn’t want to offend him, after all.

Oliver nodded.

“So, what brought you here, Elio?”

Ah.

“Holiday. It was a present from my boyfriend.”

Oliver’s eyes widened a little. They were very blue, with a curtain of dark eyelashes.

“But he’s not here?”

Elio sighed. Yet another person he had to explain this to. He rolled his eyes, could not help it.

“It was a present he gave me when we were together. We - we broke up a month ago. So I decided to go on my own.”

Oliver nodded. “I see. Good for you, for going anyway.”

“What brought you here, then?” Elio threw his question back at him.

“I’m a writer,” Oliver replied. “I needed some inspiration. Figured a change of scenery would help, and a friend mentioned this island just off the coast of Italy, said it was tiny and quiet and beautiful. So I booked myself on a trip. 

Turns out, the island isn’t as quiet as I thought, given the hotel is full.”

Oliver chuckled at the end of his speech - but Elio hadn’t even heard the joke. He was still thinking of that he’d said. 

A writer. Oliver was a writer.

“I - I love to read,” he said, almost babbled. Felt instantly stupid.

But he did love to read. It was the thing he loved the most, together with playing the piano and writing music.

Oliver smiled. His smile was beautiful. 

“Do you?”

“Y-yes, I - I read all the time. I brought so many books with me.” Elio took a step towards Oliver - it felt silly to speak while standing so far apart. “What do you write?”

“At the moment I’m writing about ancient Romans. Which is also why Italy was interesting to me. Except - I don’t know any Italian. So, I’ll be pretty lost once once I leave this hotel,” Oliver chuckled.

Elio spoke before he could even notice what he’d said.

“I speak Italian. I’m half Italian. I can help, if you want, I- I can go with you.”

Oh. Crap. Oh, no. He probably sounded like an idiot. Like a creep. Oh, no...

But Oliver just smiled.

“I’d love that.”

It had been quite a nice day, all things considered, Elio thought when they returned to the hotel.

He’d initially thought they’d just go out for a walk. The weather was nice, the sun shining and warm, but not too warm that it was overwhelming. People were strolling down the main street of that tiny, tiny town, relaxed and carefree; there were a few shops which sold food, suncream and souvenirs. 

Once he’d got talking, Elio found that he really liked chatting to Oliver; he still felt a little shy - but Oliver was so interesting to listen to. And he was interested in Elio, somehow.

He’d asked about his age - nineteen, Elio had replied. Oliver was twenty-four. Oliver was an assistant professor at Columbia University in New York, but wrote as a side job hoping to turn writing into his main occupation. He’d written a book already and he promised he’d send Elio a copy. 

Elio had smiled, looked away, his cheeks warming up. He thought his dad would have really liked Oliver.

On their way back to the hotel that evening, they grabbed a sandwich from a street-vendor, and then Oliver insisted in buying the both of them ice-cream. ‘To say thank you for being my chaperone,’ he smiled. ‘We really need some gelato to start our holiday properly!’

Elio’s cheeks had stayed warm even as he ate his ice cream, even as he looked ahead while they walked back to the hotel. He knew he was blushing, and he was sure Oliver could see. But the way Oliver had spoken, the way he’d called it ‘our holiday;’ it sounded so intimate, so... like a couple. He felt like he’d known him for much longer than just one day.

“Ok. Well. I’m - I’m going to - my room,” Oliver said with a chuckle, once they were back at their accommodation. “Thanks for the walk and for the chat.”

Elio made himself chuckle back, politely. Though, suddenly, he felt really unhappy that their time together had come to an end. Sure, they still shared a room; but Oliver certainly had plans for the rest of his holiday. Elio didn’t even know how long he was going to be there for. 

Oliver was being polite. They’d done what they had to do, them being still strangers and everything. Elio couldn’t ask for more.

“Yeah. Sure. See - see you,” he said, and walked to the bedroom, closed the door behind himself. 

His heart was pounding. 

Was that rude? Had he been too quick, too abrupt? But then again, he didn’t want to impose on Oliver - if he wanted his space... 

Elio looked down. Then around himself, at his empty bedroom. Looked at the clock - it was only 9pm. Stood with his back to the door, listening to the noises from Oliver on the other side, of things being moved, of a glass clinking.

What if he never got to spend time with him again. What if Oliver left tomorrow. What if.

Elio turned around, and opened the door. 

“Hey, Oliver, actually I ... I was wondering if you wanted to - have a drink with me. Here.”

Oliver looked up. His eyes shone; he smiled.

“I was thinking of asking you the same thing.”

“So how many languages do you speak?” Oliver was asking an hour later, as they sat on the floor, drinking red wine. Elio felt a little light headed already; he hoped it didn’t show too much.

“Three. English, Italian and French.”

“Wow. And how old are you?”

Elio rolled his eyes, but with affection. “Nineteen, I already told you.”

He watched as Oliver shrugged.

“I don’t know. The way you think, and speak. You seem more mature.”

“You look older too,” Elio said. Then froze; oh, crap. That sounded bad. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mean you look old. You look good. You look handsome.” Yikes. He’d made it worse.

But Oliver kept smiling, and now he was looking at him, with a glint in his eyes. “You think I’m handsome, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Thank you. But you’re very beautiful, too.”

Oh.

Oh.

Elio looked away. His cheeks felt on fire, again. 

Oliver thought he looked good. Oliver, who was perfect, so handsome and tall and manly and intelligent. He thought Elio was beautiful. 

He took another sip of his wine; he was going to be tipsy, soon.

“I never do this with people,” he said, his mouth seemingly speaking out of its own will.

“This?”

“Yeah. Drinking. With strangers.”

Oliver smiled again. He seemed so very close, now.

“We’re not really strangers, anymore. Are we?”

Elio took a breath. Then gathered his courage, turned around to look at Oliver in the eye.

“No. We’re not.”

And then, they were kissing.

Elio’s heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. He kept his eyes closed, let Oliver kiss him - and wanted to moan. Oliver was such a good kisser, and now he was holding his face with a hand, guiding him, pushing against him to deepen the kiss. 

Elio’s brain had surely stopped working, his whole body just feeling, and Elio let it happen. He didn’t want to think, not now. 

When the kiss slowed, then stopped, Elio opened his eyes gently. Oliver’s were still closed, and his lips were still a breath away from Elio’s.

“I think I’m a little drunk, too,” Oliver murmured, smiling softly. It made Elio chuckle.

“That’s okay.”

“Mhhhh. But that means I might not want to stop here...” Oliver said.

Elio closed his eyes again. His body shivering with desire.

“That’s okay, too.”

The next kiss was more aggressive, deeper, from the start. Oliver pushed against him, and Elio finally moaned.

“Mmmmh, can we - can we,” Oliver started.

“Bed. Yes,” Elio finished for him.

They kissed, even as they walked to the bedroom, mostly backwards for Elio, eyes closed, clawing at Oliver’s body for guidance.

“I didn’t know you were into men,” the boy babbled as he was made to lie back on the mattress. One of Oliver’s hands was already under his shirt, pads of his fingers stroking a nipple; the other was at his waist, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them off his hips.

Oliver’s response was a low, sexy purr. 

“Oh, I am.” Elio looked up into his eyes when Oliver hovered over him, his own blue eyes aflame. He spoke on his lips.

“Do you like oral sex?”

Elio swallowed. His throat felt dry, parched. 

Fuck. The way Oliver talked turned him on so much. “Yeah,” he managed to whisper back, somehow, nodding when he feared his voice had failed him.

“Good.”

And then all Elio saw was Oliver moving down his body, hastily bunching up his shirt under his armpits, and then wet, tightheat enveloped him. Elio didn’t even have time to cry out in pleasure, that more sensation joined that of Oliver’s mouth on him - two of his fingers, pushing steadily inside his body. It hurt and it felt good, and it was so much, and Elio couldn’t stop himself from bucking up his hips.

“Hey. Easy,” Oliver chided him gently - and Elio opened his eyes, checking if he was okay, fearing he might be angry with him.

“Sorry, I...”

Oliver pulled himself up, to look into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t apologise. It’s fine.” And then he smiled, and it was gentle. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Elio took a deep breath, held the older man’s gaze. “Go slow?”

A nod, another smile. “Of course.”

Elio closed his eyes. Felt Oliver kiss the side of his throat. His jaw. He had a hand in Elio’s curls, and the fingers tightened. 

Elio’s fingers did the same to Oliver’s arms, holding on for dear life. His legs wrapped around Oliver’s hips; he closed his eyes, waited for the first thrust.

And all in all, it went on forever, and didn’t last long enough.

Elio wanted to scream, while Oliver’s hips snapped into him, harder and deeper each time until Elio could almost feel him in his throat. He held on, clawed at Oliver’s shoulders, growled softly when Oliver kissed his mouth, bit at his lips. Oliver wasn’t going slowly but Elio didn’t want to stop him, couldn’t, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. His heart was beating out of his chest. He was sweaty, felt Oliver’s sweaty forehead against his chest.

“Come,” Oliver murmured softly, pulling up on his arms, pausing for a moment, pushed all the way inside, as deep as he could go. “I want to see how gorgeous you look, after you’ve come.”

And even though Elio could hardly breathe, he closed his eyes, let himself go. Let pleasure overwhelm him, taking Oliver with him.

When his breath had returned to some semblance of normality, Elio opened his eyes. He watched Oliver come back to bed from the bathroom; naked, looking glorious.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down tomorrow,” Elio murmured with a giggle. “Or move, at all.”

He felt a kiss to his spine, and then a rough, satisfied whisper.

“Mmh. Good.”

Tomorrow. Elio remembered he didn’t know what Oliver would be doing tomorrow. Or any of the days after that... 

“How long -“ he started, kept his face into the pillow so he didn’t have to look at his lover. “How long will you be here for?”

He heard Oliver sigh. “A week.”

A week. A week. Elio was also going to be there for a week. His heart beat faster - maybe, maybe it was fate.

“Me too...”

Another kiss to his spine.

“Good. Good,” he heard Oliver’s voice. And then another kiss to his spine, a bit lower. And then more: down, down, further down.

Elio closed his eyes.

Yes. Yes.

This was going to be good.


End file.
